


The Banshee's Maiden

by pocketmumbles (livelikejack)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, Fairy Tale Elements, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4415987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livelikejack/pseuds/pocketmumbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My lady.” Allison rises slowly, pressing her hand over her heart. “I swear to you that while I still live, I will not let any harm come to you.” She hesitates, then pulls off a glove and holds out her hand. “Will you come with me?”</p><p>The maiden stares at her hand for a long moment, then steps away from window and drops a pale hand into Allison’s. “My name is Lydia.”</p><p>She smiles. “I’m Allison.”</p><p> </p><p>  <em>(Or, a fantasy AU where Sir Allison embarks on a quest to rescue a young maiden from the monstrous banshee.)</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Banshee's Maiden

**Author's Note:**

> This story includes **major character death** that is consistent with canon.
> 
> Written for the [Teen Wolf Reverse Bang](http://twreversebang.livejournal.com/) and inspired by [twisted_slinky](http://twisted-slinky.livejournal.com/)'s wonderful art.
> 
> Huge thank you to [ElasticElla](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla) for the beta!

 

* * *

 

Allison steps into the dark tower, sword drawn as she peers around the dim room. “Banshee,” she calls, and her voice echoes harshly across cold stone. “I have come to rescue the maiden you’ve held captive.” She turns slowly, eyes darting across the bare stone for any sign of threat. “Will you face me?”

Silence answers her. Allison frowns, circling the small room carefully before following the single winding staircase further into the tower. No traps lie in wait, no threats lurk in corners…nothing. Aside from the riches glittering completely unguarded in the stone walls, the tower seems to be completely empty. Allison hesitates in front of the single door at the top of the stairs. She takes a deep breath, adjusts the grip on her sword, and throws the door open.

Sunlight spills through a wide window, filling every corner of the round room and bathing it in a warm glow. Allison blinks around the room for a moment, waiting for the banshee to appear, then finally sees the maiden staring at her with wide eyes.

“What – where did you-” the maiden gasps out in a voice like bells. She steps towards Allison, then seems to think better of it and reaches back to clutch the windowsill. “…Why did you come here?”

Allison drops to one knee, sheathing her sword quickly. “My lady, I’ve come to rescue you from the banshee.”

“From the-” The maiden abruptly falls silent, and Allison looks up to see her crossing her arms firmly. “No. I won’t leave.”

“You needn’t fear the banshee’s wrath,” Allison says. She drops a hand to her sword. “I will protect you.”

The maiden shakes her head. “You can’t,” she says. “The banshee claims all. No mortal knight could possibly stop her.”

“My lady.” Allison rises slowly, pressing her hand over her heart. “I swear to you that while I still live, I will not let any harm come to you.” She hesitates, then pulls off a glove and holds out her hand. “Will you come with me?”

The maiden stares at her hand for a long moment, then steps away from window and drops a pale hand into Allison’s. “My name is Lydia.”

She smiles. “I’m Allison.”

 

“You’re not really what I was expecting, Sir Allison,” Lydia says as she follows Allison away from the banshee’s tower. The sun drops just below its pointed roof and casts a long shadow over them, dark and chilling even in the late summer air.

“Oh, really?” Allison grins over her shoulder at Lydia. “What, pray tell, _were_ you expecting?”

“Well.” Lydia lengthens her strides to walk next to Allison, lifting her chin regally as she returns Allison’s grin. “A horse, maybe. And definitely more armor.”

“I didn’t come to defeat a _dragon_ ,” Allison says with a snort. “As if armor could really make a difference against a banshee.”

“Well,” Lydia says again, and shrugs elegantly. “You really have a bizarre sense of timing, you know. Rescuing the banshee’s maiden on the cusp of the full moon.”

“It’s only the first night of the full moon,” Allison says. “If we travel through the night, we’ll leave the woods in plenty of time for the second night. That’s when the moon’s at its most powerful after all, isn’t it?”

Lydia arches an eyebrow. “That doesn’t mean it’s weak during the first night,” she says. “There is no way that I’m going to wander through the woods tonight.”

“It’ll be fine, my lady. I’ll make sure you come to no harm.”

“Which one of us has actually encountered the banshee before?” Lydia asks. “Oh, right, that was me. If your plan to protect me is to travel under the full moon, I’d be safer back in that tower.” She turns back towards the tower’s silhouette, growing darker and darker as the sun dips into the horizon.

“Lydia.” Allison stops her with a hand on her shoulder, then quickly drops it after a glance from Lydia. “My lady. I swore that I would protect you, and I will.”

Lydia sighs. “Then I want you to listen to me when I say that we _really_ need to find shelter before the moon rises.”

“Alright.” Allison glances at the tall trees around them. “We still have some daylight left, I think we’ll be able to make it to-” A twig snaps, faint and far away, but the woods should be completely empty by now. “Someone’s here.”

“What?” Lydia glances around, brows drawing together in confusion. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Trust me,” Allison says. She backs Lydia towards a nearby tree, sturdy and looming high into the darkening sky with plenty of branch cover. “We’re not alone. Can you climb?”

“Of course,” Lydia says, then raises an eyebrow as Allison kneels with cupped hands. “Right _now?_ ”

The soft swish of loose dirt underfoot grows louder. “Right now,” Allison says, and boosts Lydia high over her head. “Climb as high as you can go, and don’t come back down until I tell you it’s safe, alright?”

Lydia climbs into the branches, and Allison lets out a relieved breath as her skirts disappear from view. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Allison says. Her hand drops to her sword, then she draws her daggers instead. The treading is light but undoubtedly human; she’ll need speed more than strength to defeat whoever has decided to risk the banshee’s woods tonight. “But it isn’t good.”

She sets her back against the tree, muscles coiling tight as she listens for the approaching threat. Flashes of green zip past the corners of her eyes as the attacker draws closer, slithering from tree to tree with a fluid grace. Allison draws in a steady breath, tightens her grip on her dagger, and lunges forward as the figure bursts from a nearby tree.

The man leaps back almost immediately, hissing in pain as blood drips from a long cut down his forearm. He draws a knife from his belt, gripping it somewhat clumsily in his uninjured hand. Allison grins.

He runs at her immediately, dodging her strikes with surprising agility but waving his own dagger too wildly to land any of his own. A few slashes to his wrist force the knife from his hand. He collapses to the ground after just one blow to his gut, wheezing for air while Allison snatches up his knife.

It’s small, easily concealed down a boot or up a sleeve, and finely sharpened to cut through any cloth. Allison tucks the knife into her belt and frowns down at the man. “You’re awfully bold for a thief.”

The thief clutches his arm while he staggers to his feet. “Word travels fast,” he says, voice deeper than Allison would have expected from his youthful appearance. He draws himself up to his full height, chest puffing out importantly. “And I travel even faster.”

Even with his hair sticking straight up from his head like twigs, he’s not much taller than Allison herself. She resists the urge to laugh. “And what exactly is the word that’s traveling not quite as fast as yourself?”

“That the banshee’s maiden is now free,” the thief says, lips curling into a cocky smirk. “Free for the taking.”

Allison’s hands tighten around her daggers. “You won’t be taking her anywhere.”

The thief bursts into laughter. “I don’t want _her_ ,” he says with a derisive snort. “A banshee’s maiden is cursed, everyone knows that. No, it’s what she has that I’m after.”

Her muscles tense. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

“They say the banshee’s maiden has riches beyond measure,” the thief says, and his bright blue eyes gleam with greed. “I must have it.”

A scream echoes through the woods, close and distant all at once. Allison spins, trying to place its source, but it seems to be coming from every direction – from no direction at all. It washes over her ears as gently as a rolling wave, clearer than the finest bell, and as the single note stretches on, it almost feels like a song. She should be worried to hear the banshee’s song, probably, but she can’t stop the smile that curls her lips, the warmth that spreads beneath her skin. She turns back to the thief, her limbs as weightless as a dream, and then her heart abruptly jolts when she sees the thief’s face.

His cocky smirk is gone, all traces of bravado leeched from his very body and draining his skin as pale as the moon. He backs away on shaking legs, knife forgotten at his feet while his hands splay wide. “No,” he pleads through chattering teeth. His chest heaves jerky and shuddering as he frantically gulps down air. “No, I don’t want to die!” His eyes snap up to meet Allison’s just once, bright blue and trembling with terror, and then he breaks away with a gasp and plunges deep into the woods.

The banshee’s song fades from Allison’s ears, dissipating through the air like a soft mist. She blinks slowly, eyes dragging up to the moon shining down at her bright full, and she swallows. “Stay there,” she whispers to the trees, and hopes that Lydia can hear her. “Stay where it’s safe.”

The soft shift of rich fabric over rough bark answers her. She spins her daggers around her fingers, switching into a more relaxed grip, and sits back against a nearby tree as she settles in for the night.

 

Allison rises at first light, stretching stiff muscles and creaking bones. A twig snaps high above her, showering her in tiny leaves, and then Lydia’s purple-clad foot drops into view. “Did you rest well, my lady?” she asks as she helps Lydia down.

“As well as can be expected up in a tree,” Lydia says, hopping down with a snort. She reaches into the pockets of her skirts and pulls out a round red fruit. “And I got us some breakfast!”

“You did?” Allison frowns up at the tree. “That doesn’t look a thing like a pomegranate tree.”

“Well, it isn’t,” Lydia says. “But it was simple enough to pick these from the nearby branches.” She draws a knife from her boot and peels open the pomegranate with deft hands, holding out a section to Allison. “I picked more, but I do hope you have better plans for our dinner.”

Allison accepts the section from Lydia. “I’ve got an idea or two.” She hands over her flask and tips a handful of seeds into her mouth while Lydia drinks. The seeds burst bright and tangy on her tongue, sweet with a vague sort of sharpness. “Last night…” she begins, then shakes her head.

“Scary stuff, wasn’t it?” Lydia says. She shivers. “I didn’t expect a thief to dare venture this far into the woods.”

“I suppose they’ve gotten bolder now that you’ve left the tower,” Allison says as they follow the sun through dewy grass. She snorts. “Word travels fast, after all.”

“Hm,” Lydia says. She picks at her heavy skirts with a sigh. “Well, I hope they realize I left all my so-called riches in the tower.”

Allison arches an eyebrow. “So-called?” she repeats. “I seem to recall an awful lot of jewels when I was climbing that tower. Gold piled as high as the eye could see.”

“Oh yes, as rich as a dragon’s hoard,” Lydia says dryly. “I notice you didn’t take any with you.”

“I came to liberate _you_ , my lady, not the gold,” Allison says. Lydia ducks her head, and her cheeks glow as pink as pomegranate blossoms. “And besides, I know better than to try to steal a banshee’s wealth.”

Lydia nods, and they walk in silence. After a long moment, she says quietly, “It’s not cursed, you know.” She looks up to meet Allison’s gaze, a small crease forming between her eyes. “A banshee’s wealth isn’t cursed. It’s freely given.”

“I know,” Allison says, taken aback by the urgency in Lydia’s voice. She knows that banshees don’t steal their wealth, not any more than they steal life. Not everyone understands that, but – she knows. “But I would never steal from the dead.”

“Oh.” Lydia looks down, blinking rapidly. “Oh, I hadn’t…” She looks up again, and her brows draw together in confusion. “You’re not really like most knights, are you?”

“I thought the lack of a horse was a pretty big giveaway,” Allison says, spreading her arms wide with a laugh. Her smile fades when Lydia’s brow creases even further. “I come from a long line of knights,” she says, arms dropping. “A lot of the legends, they’re just my family’s history. And it took me a long time to understand, but they weren’t always right.” She glances up at Lydia. “Not all monsters do monstrous things, you know.”

Lydia’s eyes lose their focus for a moment, as if caught up in a distant memory. “No,” she says softly. “No, they don’t.”

Allison smiles. “And, you know, a banshee’s maiden isn’t cursed, either,” she adds quietly. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” Lydia says. “I know there’s no such thing as a banshee’s curse.” She lets out a sigh, glancing back at the tower just barely visible above the trees. “I’m just not so sure I believe it anymore.”

Allison reaches for Lydia’s hand, then remembers herself and lets her arm fall back to her side. “I…I do not think the banshee would wish you harm, my lady,” she says instead, clutching her hands tightly together.

Lydia snorts. “What makes you think that? She can’t be happy that I’ve left.”

“I think she let you leave.” She looks up from her hands, meeting Lydia’s stunned stare. “I came to rescue you, yes, but…I never even faced her before I found you. And last night-”

“What about last night?”

Her mouth snaps shut at the tightness in Lydia’s voice. “Nothing, my lady.”

Lydia sighs. “I didn’t mean-” She sighs again. “I’m sorry. What were you trying to say?”

Allison presses her lips together. “Well,” she says, reluctantly. “I just suppose it must be lonely for the banshee. One foot in the land of the living, the other in the land of the dead, never truly belonging to either.” Her brow furrows. “I can almost understand-”

“-why the banshee would wish for someone to stay,” Lydia finishes. She nods with a bitter sort of laugh. “I can almost understand, too.”

She watches the angry curl of Lydia’s mouth, the steel-sharp rage burning behind her eyes. “Did she ask, when she came for you?” she asks, even though she already knows the answer.

“No,” Lydia says. She stares back at Allison, eyes dark with tightly-wound fury. “No, I never had a choice.”

 

The sky has just begun to darken by the time they reach a tall, knotted tree in the middle of their path. Allison checks its trunk for the marking she’d carved on her way to the banshee’s tower, then glances at the still-bright sun. “I’ll be right back,” she says, and hurries into the woods.

“Where are you going?” Lydia calls. The swish of rich fabric over grass follows, and Lydia appears next to her. “There’s a cave not far from here, but you’re going the wrong way.”

“I know,” Allison says. “I thought you’d like some dinner, though.”

“What-” Lydia begins, and then Allison throws out a hand to stop her from stepping into a snare. Her fingers curl slowly over Allison’s arm, and she lets out a long breath when she sees the rabbit caught in its depths. “Oh.” She tilts her head at Allison, and the corner of her mouth quirks into a grin. “You really do have a plan for everything, don’t you?”

Warmth seeps into Allison’s skin from her lingering touch, traveling up her arm and burning all the way to the tips of her ears. She kneels and quickly slits the rabbit’s throat. “I try.”

When they reach the cave, Allison looks up from the barest beginnings of a fire and almost falls right into it when she sees Lydia skinning the rabbit. “What?” Lydia demands. “I’m not going to scream at the sight of blood.”

“Oh.” Allison goes back to coaxing a fire from her pile of sticks. Lydia sits down next to her with a sigh, mounting the rabbit onto a skewer. Her words play over and over in Allison’s mind, scream and blood, blood and a scream… _the_ scream…the banshee’s scream. “Last night,” she hears herself say, and pushes on before she loses her nerve. “I heard her. I heard the banshee.”

Lydia abruptly stiffens next to her. “It’s…it doesn’t always mean what people think,” she says, voice tight. “It’s not…”

“It wasn’t what I expected,” Allison says. She stares into the flames. “It felt…they always say it’s a scream, you know. The wailing woman. But it…it wasn’t anything like that.”

Lydia wraps her arms tight around her knees. “What was it like?” she asks.

“Like a song.” The flames dance sharp and bright before her eyes, mesmerizing like shining waves of hair. “Like a song with no beginning or end. Everywhere and nowhere at once, and so…” She laughs a little, finally breaking away from the fire to meet Lydia’s eyes. “Yearning. I suppose that makes sense, since it’s meant to mourn the dead.”

Lydia stares back at her with wide eyes. “I suppose so,” she says quietly. She pokes at the rabbit, then speaks again. “You know, you’re the first person I’ve ever heard describe it as a song.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know what else to call it. That’s what it felt like to me.”

“It didn’t chill you to your bones?” Lydia jokes, leaning closer with a teasing grin. “Make your hair stand on end?”

“Old wives’ tales,” Allison scoffs, then remembers the terror on the thief’s face. Her grin fades. “Maybe I just heard something different.”

“Maybe you’re just different.”

Allison looks down at the fire, turning the rabbit on its skewer. “Maybe.”

Lydia stands, stretching slowly. “I’m going to wash while the sun’s still out. I’ll be back soon.” She starts to walk towards the stream, then pauses. “For what it’s worth, Sir Allison,” she calls, turning around, “I like that you’re different.”

Allison smiles. “I like that you’re different, too, my lady.”

 

She doesn’t hear the approaching man until he’s nearly on top of them. Allison springs to her feet, cursing the stream’s currents covering his soft footsteps, and draws her bow as the man approaches.

He falls several paces from the cave’s mouth as her arrow sinks into his leg. Allison runs forward and aims another arrow at his throat as he staggers to his feet.

He’s taller than the thief had been, with darker hair sweeping back from his face as he smiles around a neatly trimmed beard. He holds out his hands easily, wiggling his fingers inside elegant leather gloves. “There’s no need for that,” he chides. “I haven’t even done anything wrong, and you’re already shooting me.”

“Those gloves don’t belong to you,” Allison says. “They’re far too rich to be running around a banshee’s forest.”

“Well, let’s just say that their former owner no longer had use for them,” the man says. “Nothing I could do to help them. But very well.” He slips off the gloves and lets them fall to the ground, revealing pale hands sprinkled with small scars and freshly-turned dirt. “Now, how about you put away that bow.”

“I don’t think so, rogue.” She adjusts her aim to the center of his chest, where the deep collar of his shirt split open to bare vulnerable skin. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“I’m wounded,” the rogue protests, lip pushed out in an exaggerated pout. “Can’t I rest in that cave until the moon sets? You injured me, after all; I wouldn’t be able to defend myself against all the monsters crawling through these woods tonight.”

“You made it in here this far; you’ll make it out just fine,” Allison says. “You’re barely even bleeding. You’re fine.”

His lips curl in a sneer. “Lucky me.”

“Too lucky.” He moves too freely, too unaffected by the arrow in his leg. There’s a looseness to his stance, a too-casual wildness to his movements that sets Allison on edge. She straightens her stance and lifts her chin. “Leave.”

“I don’t think so,” the rogue says, teeth bared in a menacing grin. “Not without the banshee’s maiden.”

Allison’s hand tightens around her bow. “You won’t be taking her anywhere.”

The rogue rolls his eyes. “I’m not after _her_ ,” he says with a long-suffering sigh. “A banshee’s maiden is doomed, everyone knows that. No, it’s what she has that I want.”

Her muscles tense. “And what, pray tell, is that?”

“They say the banshee’s maiden has power beyond measure,” the rogue says, and his bright blue eyes harden with hunger. “I must have it.”

Something drips behind Allison, and the rogue staggers back. “No,” he whispers. “No, stay away from me!”

Allison whirls. A figure stands in the middle of the stream, pale and haggard in moonlight. She steps forward, and the breath rushes from Allison’s lungs.

The banshee’s arms reach across the water, paler than even the moon in the night sky, and damp hair spills past her shoulders like fading embers. She’s too far away for Allison to see her face, but the currents carry her voice to pour into Allison’s ears like a gentle rainfall. Her song doesn’t ring out like a bell, but rather whispers quiet and soft like the deepest of secrets. Allison draws in a breath as the song fades beneath the water, laughter bubbling up through her throat and leaving her lips in a soft sigh.

A sharp snap echoes through the air, and Allison turns back to see the rogue collapse to the ground, breaking the arrow’s shaft on the ground as his legs give out. The arrow digs further into his leg, and he howls in pain. “Stay away from me,” he snaps, gasping through pained breaths as he drags himself further back. “It’s not my time to die!” His eyes snap up to meet Allison’s just once, bright blue and feral with fear, and then he staggers to his feet with a roar and plunges deep into the woods.

Allison turns back towards the banshee, but finds herself staring at thin air. The stream bubbles on, completely undisturbed but for a single wet footprint atop a rock jutting out of the water. Allison lets out a long sigh and lowers her bow, lifting the arrow to return it to her quiver. Moonlight catches on its tip, shining into her eyes bright and blinding, and she glances back at the stream before settling in front of the cave’s mouth. “She won’t hurt you,” she hears herself whisper, and isn’t quite sure if she means it for Lydia’s benefit or for her own. “I saw her. I know she won’t.”

 

She wakes as soon as the sun breaks over the horizon, shining bright and warm on her face even in the early morning chill. The stream bubbles merrily, bright and lively with birds skimming its clear shallows. It’s as if all the dark shadows and quiet foreboding from the night before had vanished with the moon, and Allison feels herself finally relaxing as she washes under the sun’s comforting rays.

Lydia’s coaxing last night’s embers into flame when Allison returns. “I thought I heard you catching breakfast,” she says, reaching for the fish wrapped tight in Allison’s net.

“Yes, I-” Allison begins, then pauses when Lydia draws the thief’s knife from her belt and slices open the first fish’s belly. “Uh.”

Lydia smirks at the stunned look on her face. “I do know how to gut a fish,” she says, eyes dancing with laughter.

“My lady, you,” Allison tries. “You’re…you know a lot, for…”

“For a lady?” Lydia asks. She snorts, smoothing down her skirts with gut-smeared hands. “I may look the part, Sir Allison, but I’m no lady.”

Allison smiles, settling down next to her in the dew-damp grass. “And what exactly are you?”

Lydia tilts her head, and her hair shines bright as a flame in the rising sun. “I’m Lydia,” she says. “Just Lydia.”

Her cheeks burn, and she hurriedly sets the first fish over the fire. “I wish I could be just Allison.”

“Well, why not?” Lydia asks. “Starting over’s really not as scary as it seems.”

“I can’t just-” Allison shakes her head. “I swore an oath, my lad – Lydia. I could never forgive myself if I abandoned the people who need me.”

Lydia doesn’t answer. Allison finally looks up to see Lydia smiling back at her, faint and with the barest trace of something like wistfulness. “You really are a knight, Sir Allison,” she says. “As noble as your cause, through and through.”

“I don’t have a _cause_ ,” Allison protests. “I just – I just want to do what I can to protect the unprotected.”

Lydia tucks her knees under her chin. “Like me.”

“Like you,” Allison agrees. She takes the next fish that Lydia hands her. “Where will you go, after we leave the forest?”

Lydia doesn’t answer for a long moment, staring intently at a patch of sunlight on the forest floor. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “Somewhere far, far away.”

“I could-” Allison begins. Her throat abruptly catches, and she swallows before trying again. “If you need…I could accompany you. See you safely to your home.”

Lydia smiles, gaze dropping away with a rueful twist to her mouth. “It would be a very long way.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to help you escape the banshee just for you to run in trouble later,” Allison says. She laughs, aiming for levity, but Lydia seems to droop even further at her words. “My l – Lydia? Did I say something wrong?”

“The banshee,” Lydia says, voice scarcely more than a whisper.

“I won’t let her take you again,” Allison says. Her hand drops to her sword. “You have my word.”

“No, it’s just…” She lets out a long sigh. “It’s so lonely, being a banshee. It must be.”

Truthfully, Allison had never thought much of a banshee’s life before. Beware them, her family had always said. Stay clear of their path. That was all that ever mattered. But to walk with one foot in the land of the living, the other in the land of the dead, never truly belonging to either… “Is that why she craves a companion?” she hears herself ask. “To have someone to belong to?”

Lydia shrugs, her mouth twisting bitterly. “Futile, if you ask me,” she says. “They’ll die anyway, and then she’s as alone as she always was.”

“Maybe it’d be worth it if she found the right person,” Allison says. “Someone who wanted to stay. Maybe then that short lifetime together would be worth it.”

They eat in silence. “Would you,” Lydia asks haltingly. She meets Allison’s eyes, gaze inscrutable. “If you were offered the choice…do you think you could ever stay with a banshee?”

Her breath stills in her lungs. She stares back at Lydia for a long moment, at a complete loss. “I don’t know,” she says finally.

Lydia smiles, sad and brittle. “Neither would I.”

 

The sun has disappeared behind the treetops by the time they finally leave the forest. “We made it,” Lydia says, staring at the dusty dirt road in wonder. She glances back at the forest. “We actually made it.”

“You sound so surprised,” Allison snorts.

“Well, I just…I thought…” Lydia tries, then slumps. “The banshee.”

Allison nods. “I think she understands why you wanted to leave,” she says. “She never came after you in the forest. And…” She pauses, then takes a deep breath. “She’s been protecting you. Every night, she came to me to help protect you. I think she really did care about you – enough to let you go.”

Lydia looks down, blinking rapidly. “I guess so,” she says thickly. “You…you’re really not like any other knight I’ve known. How do you understand so much that everyone else won’t?”

Allison stares out at the road winding towards the city. “Because…a friend of mine. A very dear friend.” She shakes her head. “You know, knights and noble warriors so often narrow the world down to black and white, but him…not only could he see the gray, but he took the time to understand it. I learned that from him, to listen before leaping and seeing things another way. And…and he…” Her voice abruptly peters out as her throat tightens like a vise.

Lydia’s smile fades. “What happened to him?”

“I couldn’t protect him,” Allison says after a long moment. “And I swore to never fail again.” She swallows hard, glancing at Lydia. “Did…can a banshee scream for a boy who became a wolf?”

Lydia lets out a long breath, then closes the distance between them and squeezes Allison’s hand. “Not all monsters do monstrous things,” she says.

Allison smiles and squeezes back. She takes a deep breath and looks up at the sky burning from light blue to deep orange. “It’s getting dark. I could – I would like to accompany you to the city, if you wish.”

Lydia smiles. “I-” she begins, then her eyes widen at something over Allison’s shoulder.

Allison whirls, breath catching as she sees a man striding towards them. “Go,” she hisses, shoving Lydia behind her. The last rays of sun glint off the knight’s armor, harsh and blinding against Allison’s eyes. “No one will hurt you on the road. Go now.”

“Allison-”

She draws her sword. _“Go!”_

Lydia’s mouth snaps shut, and she turns away in a whirl of her skirt. Allison doesn’t dare watch her leave, doesn’t dare look away from the approaching knight. “What brings you here, Sir Knight?” she calls.

He stops in front of her, looming taller and broader than the thief or the rogue, with hair as black as a moonless night. “The same that brings you here, Sir Knight,” he replies, voice softer than Allison would have expected from his powerful build. “You may have gotten to the banshee’s maiden first, but you will not stop me from finding her.”

Allison levels her sword at his throat. “Leave her be. Whatever wealth or power you think she might have, she doesn’t. Just let her go.”

The knight shakes his head. “I don’t care about what she has,” he says with a solemn frown. “Everyone knows that a banshee’s maiden can never truly leave her monster. And that is why I’ve come for her.”

Her muscles tense. “The banshee let her go,” she says. “If you’re so keen on hunting the banshee, you’ll find her tower in the woods. But the maiden cannot draw the banshee to you. Leave her alone.”

“You’re a fool,” the knight says, heavy brows drawing together. “You have no idea how the world works. Do you really think you can trust a monster? You dare call yourself a knight?”

“I swore an oath,” Allison snaps. “It is my duty to protect those who cannot protect themselves. You dare call yourself a knight when you would hunt a harmless maiden?”

The knight stares down at her for a long moment. “I, too, swore an oath,” he says, unbuckling his armor. It drops to the ground with a harsh clang. “If your cause is truly more noble than mine, then let’s see you try and stop me.”

Allison unbuckles her own armor, letting it fall softly to the ground. “And what, pray tell, is your cause?”

“They say the banshee’s maiden is dangerous beyond measure,” the knight says, and his bright blue eyes darken with determination. “I must destroy her.”

The wind stills, the birds hush, and even the sun itself seems to freeze in the sky as the knight draws his sword. Allison nods, raises hers, and they charge towards each other.

Their swords tangle in a screech of steel. Allison stumbles back, eyes darting across the barren dirt for a higher vantage. He follows her with unflagging energy, raining down heavy blows that she just barely manages to parry.

She ducks down and knocks a hard blow into his knee, dancing back as he falls heavily to the ground. A sharp pain stabs through her middle as his falling blade cuts her skin, but she pushes it out of her mind. The knight leaps back up almost immediately, setting his weight gingerly on his injured knee, and lunges forward.

A cry rings through the air, distant and weak and so desperately heartbroken. Allison freezes, her entire body aching as the scream rattles through her bones. She looks up to see the knight staring around himself with a feverish smile. “Come,” he says in a breath weak as a whisper, and his grip tightens around his sword. “Come and face me, banshee!” he bellows. “I will not run from you. I do not fear death!”

_“No.”_

The whisper echoes from the woods, ricocheting through Allison’s ears. She doesn’t dare turn around, though, doesn’t dare look away from the knight. “Run,” she rasps out through stinging lungs. Her entire middle burns from exhaustion. “My lady, run.”

“No,” Lydia says, quietly and far too close. “No,” she repeats, and her voice breaks into a sob. “Please, _no_.”

The knight freezes, staring wide-eyed over Allison’s shoulder. She forces him back with a last heave of strength and looks back at Lydia. “Lydia,” she begins, then stops when a dark red drop appears in the grass. From – “Lydia,” she tries again, and more drops spill from her lips.

“Impossible,” the knight says, faint and faltering as he backs away from Lydia. “You’re the…but you can’t be…they said…” His voice shrinks to a whisper as he finally meets Allison’s eyes. “They said…”

Lydia crashes to her knees, face pale as moonlight as her mouth falls open. _“Allison!”_

The scream cuts through her body, smooth and sharp all at once. It fills her ears like slipping beneath the ocean’s surface, the single note wrapping tight around her and settling warm as an ember in her core. She turns back to the knight, her limbs as weightless as a dream, and then her heart abruptly jolts when she sees the knight’s face.

His grim frown is gone, all traces of certainty leeched from his very body and draining his skin as sallow as ash. He steps forward on shaking legs, sword dropping from a limp hand. It cuts through the grass as it falls, and green blades stain dark red from the sword’s length. “No,” he whispers through a frail breath. “No, I…” His eyes slowly drag up to meet Allison’s, bright blue and utterly broken. “I didn’t…the banshee…I swore…”

“You’re a fool,” Allison coughs out, grimacing through a smile as metal pools hot and burning in her mouth. “You have no idea how the world works.”

Heavy skirts shift over grass, and cold hands cradle Allison tight as she falls to the ground. Fire-bright hair blurs her vision as Lydia curls around her, pressing their faces close together. “Leave us,” she commands, voice hoarse and raw. “ _Leave!_ ”

He stares down at his bloodstained hands. “I am no knight,” he says. “I am a monster.”

Allison reaches up as the footsteps fade, cradling Lydia’s face with a heavy hand. “I knew it was you,” she murmurs, and her body aches as she forces herself to speak. “My Lydia.”

“I didn’t want this,” Lydia sobs, clutching Allison tight with trembling arms. “I didn’t want this for you. I tried to – I thought if I left you, then maybe-”

“Don’t leave me.” She squeezes Lydia’s hand tight – or she hopes she does, at least. The ground is so soft, and she feels so light. “I don’t want you to leave me.”

“I won’t.”

“Not ever.” She tries to nod her head. “I’ll never leave you, okay? Not in life, not in death. I…” Her world darkens, and she fights to muster up enough breath. “I would stay with you. Lydia, I would.”

“I know.” Soft hair brushes across her face as Lydia nods. “I know, I…” Her voice breaks. “ _Allison._ ”

She draws in one last breath and smiles up at her banshee. “Sing me a song.”

The cry pours into her ears, slipping beneath her skin and coursing through her very being. Allison sighs, cradled safe and warm as the song carries her away.

 

* * *

  

_Epilogue_

 

There’s something familiar about the girl. It doesn’t make any sense, of course; Lydia’s never seen Allison Argent before in her life, never even heard her name until today. But there’s something about the shine of her dark hair under the hallway lights, the curve of her smile and the blush of her skin. It tugs deep in Lydia’s gut, drawing her in like a hook on a line until she finds her feet carrying her closer and closer.

Allison turns towards her, dark eyes wide with surprise, and something clicks in Lydia’s mind. It’s distant, dull, unconnected to anything she’s ever known, but…there’s something there. Something sparking bright in her mind, something uncurling deep in her chest, if only for a moment. She smiles quickly. “That jacket is absolutely killer. Where did you get it?”

“Oh! Um.” Allison looks down, tugging at the jacket uncomfortably, and for a moment the fabric flashes bright like metal, like silver, like…

…Like armor.

“My mom was a buyer,” Allison says. “For a boutique back in San Francisco.”

Armor. It burrows into Lydia’s mind, setting its roots in deep to germinate and fester. Now that she’s seen it, she’ll never be able to let it go. She doesn’t understand, but…it’s something. She’s something. _They’re_ something.

She smiles, her stomach swooping in excitement of someone new and familiar all at once. Allison Argent is important to her, she knows it, and she doesn’t understand why but she knows that they’re going to be  _something_. “And _you_ are my new best friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say [hi](http://pocketlass.tumblr.com)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "The Banshee's Maiden"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421279) by [Twisted_Slinky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Slinky/pseuds/Twisted_Slinky)




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